


The Good, The Bad and the Dirty

by pellucidpilgrim



Series: Throw the First Punch (make it a good one) [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mark sings hell yeah, badass everyone???, secret agent AU, who even knows with my level of trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pellucidpilgrim/pseuds/pellucidpilgrim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only two ways these things can go, good or bad, how was I to know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Took a Market of Filth (and sold it like summer)

**Author's Note:**

> wowie welcome to my first ever septiplier fanfic!!!! I'm honestly very excited about this piece and I cant' wait to go on this journey w/ you as i try to piece together this garbage lol
> 
> if you want to reach me my tumblrs pellucidpilgrim.tumblr.com !! Cause i havent figured this out yet lol 
> 
> This was inspired by Panic! At the Disco's song "The Good, The Bad and the Dirty" which you should give a listen to cause they're going to pop up a lot as "Death of a Bachelor" heavily inspired this work
> 
> Okay!!! Have fun!!!! Read!!! I'll stop!!!!!

Getting shot in the shoulder was totally karma for something. 

Jack saw blood before he felt pain, and it almost blinded him for a moment. He cursed loudly and hid behind a wall, going through his admittedly very long list of sins that could have made the deity of karma or whatever strike him down like this. 

“Jack, what the hell are you going?” He could hear Ken, his partner, call over his earpiece. Jack gritted his teeth. “Got shot in th’ effin’ shoulder. Needed a minute. I’ll be there in a hot sec, Kenno.” The green haired agent grabbed his pistol in his other hand (thank the lord he was ambidextrous, or his shot would have been shit) and started shooting and running, trying not to jostle his shoulder even more. 

“Alright. The doors are all shut down for you, all you gotta do is follow the map I’m sending you to your Apple watch...now.” Jack heard the tone beep and he looked down, and whooped as he realized he was closer than planned. 

“Hell yeah! I’m ‘bout two hallways away. I should be getting there soon.” Jack skidded down one hallways, headbutting a Cry minion in the back of the head with the hilt of his gun, making him crumble like folded paper. It was hard, making the wound in his shoulder sizzle with furious pain, but he managed; he always seemed to manage. That’s how he got so far up in the agency; Jack was a certified professional at winging it and not fucking things up. 

Finally, he reached the entrance door. It was already opened a bit thanks to Ken’s handiwork, but it needed a slight push. Jack reached his foot up and kicked it open, hiding behind the wall next to it in case of any fire. No bullets were whizzing past his ears. and there were no explosions of any kind, which made Jack’s skin crawl with a feeling he wished he could forget: trepidation. 

Jack moved from his hiding spot, his gun still raised, and walked slowly into the room. It was dark, only some things blotting out in the dark like misshapen monsters of the night, looming over him and watching his movements. Jack shuddered quietly; this was definitely the main room. He could feel Felix’s and Cry’s presence flooding the room, drowning Jack in a tidal wave of nervousness and fury. It was time the bastards pay for what they’ve done to people, who they have mercilessly maimed and took away the last breath of hope and life. 

“Felix! Cry!” He shouted into the quiet room, hearing his voice echo off the walls. “Come out n’ show yerself, ya pieces of shite!” Nothing answered him and Jack took a shaky breath, turning this way and that. His shoes made a slight padded sound on the floor, and the quiet drip of his own blood made a trail as he walked. Jack could feel himself getting dizzy and his vision going black around the edges, and he knew that he needed to find them soon. 

“Dammit…” He muttered, glancing around. “Where th’ hell are they?” 

“You don’t look so well, Jackarooney.” 

Jack whipped around to see Cry, leaning casually on a plimoth like it was made for him to do that. He couldn’t see the smirk he had on his face due to his blank white mask he always wore, but the agent could hear it in his tone. Jack glared, holding up the gun. “‘N why do ya care? I thought ya’d want me ta suffer.” Cry chuckled, a low smooth sound that send shivers up the Irishman’s spine. 

“I want you to suffer yes, but not die. Then where would all of our entertainment go?” Cry purred, pushing himself up and confidently walking towards Jack, like he was greeting an old friend, which, in a sick twisted way, he was. Jack had been on his and Felix’s case for most of his career and life; Those two were his target, and he was theirs. They waltzed in this circle, it seemed, playing cat and mouse. Except, in both cases, they were the cat of their own game. 

“There’s a lot of places I could tell ya entertainment to go,” the agent muttered, still keeping his functional arm holding the gun and trained on Cry. “By th’ way, where’s Tweedle Dum? Ya both are usually never separated.” 

“Felix? He’s getting our new friend to come and join us,” Cry said nonchalantly. Jack’s blood ran cold. They couldn’t have possibly got who he thought they got. 

“Oh, there he is now. Felix, let’s let Jack say hello to our new friend!” Jack watched with concealed horror as the sandy haired man dragged an unconscious Ken to the light. Jack felt fury and guilt all at once. Ken had a wife, a wife who was expecting a baby. He couldn’t let him die. Jack didn’t have anyone to live for; if anyone was going to be sacrificed, it sure as hell better be Jack. 

“Cry, Felix, don’t do this to ‘em. Ken has no part in this. He’s jus’ a friend,” The Irishman said, trying not to shake. “He’s not who yer after. Yer after me, not him. Don’t kill ‘em.” Felix laughed, a menacing chuckle that made Jack clench the gun in his hand. 

“We know that. we also know that his wife, Mary, is expecting. We know everything Jack. We know he’s your partner. Yes, you’re the one we’re after, but might as well have some fun with you before we finally finish you off.” 

Jack’s head snapped towards Ken as he coughed weakly, waking up. He tried to remain calm for the older man, hoping to all hell he could fix this mess. This is what he was good at right? Winging it and not fucking it all up? 

“Hey Ken,” the green haired man said softly, trying to make sure Ken stayed calm. “Ya feel okay?” Ken groaned, then froze as he looked around. “Oh shit,” he breathed. Jack’s shoulders slowly sagged, taking mind of his wound. “Yeah, we’re in pretty deep, huh?” He chuckled weakly, watching his close friend. Ken looked up at Felix and Cry and stiffened as he remembered what had happened. 

“Welcome back, sunshine,” Cry said, his voice now having a mocking drawl to it. “We would killed you sooner, but Jackaboy here made a little mistake: He cares too much for you. We couldn’t possibly let something like that go to waste, could we?” Ken stared at Jack, and Jack bit his lip. 

“Hey Ken, we’ll get outta this, I promise. This is wha’ I’m good at: wingin’ it,” He chuckled desperately, his hand on the hilt shaking. Ken looked at his friend and took a deep breath, and Jack saw something he never wanted to see in his persevering friend’s eyes: resignation. 

“Shut up Jack; we both know we can’t bullshit our way out of this one. Just...take care of Mary for me, please? She’ll need it more than ever, especially with the baby coming up and all.” Ken cleared his throat as it closed up on it. “Take care of our baby, too; they need Uncle Jack to be there for them. They need a figure like you in their life.” 

Jack’s eyes filled with angry, unshed tears. “That won’t happen because I’m gonna get us outta here, buddy,” he said, shaking his head. Ken chuckled sadly. 

“I’m really going to fucking miss that about you. Your complete stubbornness. Just, don’t shut people out. I know you tend to do that, especially with handling grief, because your stupid caring heart doesn’t want anyone to worry. Remember that you have friends, and that’s their job.” Jack’s breath hitched. 

“And remember, Jack, you’re a boss. Don’t think this is your fault, or you weren’t strong enough. Cause damn, you’re the strongest person I’ve seen in a long time. Remember who you are.” 

Jack heard the click of the safety being turned off and stepped forward just as the shot rang out, and he could only fall to his knees as he watched Ken fall to the floor lifeless, his rag doll head rolling in a splatter of his own blood.


	2. Turn the Memory to Stone (and carve your shoulder)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jack still held it though, because in the end, he was helping a lot more people, making the world safe, making people happy, and that's been his goal ever since he was young enough to comprehend right and wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit, this blew up so much and im so excited for whats to come!! Thank you for all your support, I truly appreciate everything and all the thoughtful words <3333
> 
> Come find me on the tumbles: pellucidpilgrim.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you enjoy chapter 2!!

_"Remember who you are."_

The funeral was a private one. Ken’s friends all talked, preaching about how Ken was too young to die, and how he had a life to live, and all the usual shit. Sad enough, Jack’s heard this all song and dance so many times, it’s numbing. Death comes with the job, of course, especially a job like Jack and Ken’s. Funerals upon funerals have past the green haired man, but even though he was numb to the tears, he could feel his heart breaking more and more and his shoulders being worn down by the staggering weight of this job. Jack still held it though, because in the end, he was helping a lot more people, making the world safe, making people happy, and that’s been his goal ever since he was young enough to comprehend right and wrong.

“And now we call Jack Mcloughlin to the podium to say a few words,” Jack was startled from his thoughts when he heard Mary’s choked up, yet strong voice, and he braced himself as he slowly walked up to the mic, his wounded shoulder stiff from the bandages underneath his maroon sweater and gray suit jacket.

"Hi everyone. As Mary said, m' names Jack. I was Ken's...job partner." Jack cleared his throat, staring at the back of the church the funeral was being held in, instead of the curious eyes of his family. They didn't know that Ken was an agent; the only people who were supposed to know is your spouse and parents, so the extended family of Ken Morrison must have been totally confused as to why this green haired Irishman was standing up there, talking about Ken like he knew him personally. Sucks for them, because Jack knew him and saw him in a light that humans seemingly never see: survival.

"But, ah, I knew Ken pretty close. We were like brothers, always havin' each other's backs. I can't tell ya th' number of times that Ken has saved my sorry arse," Jack chuckled weakly as the audience chuckled along with him.

"Anyway, havin' such an accident happen in th' workplace...I wouldn't have imagined it happenin' ta him. Ken was a beacon of light for me, an amazin' husband, and would've been a fantastic father." Mary choked on a sob. Jack signed, gripping the sides of the podium. "I will always remember 'em. He was my, admittedly, only friend, and there will always be a special place in my heart." He took a shaky breath before he walked down the velvet covered stairs. Jack turned to the cold, lifeless body that was so unlike Ken when he was alive and gave a two finger salute, a sign of respect and admiration, and also a farewell. Then, holding his shoulder slightly, Jack walked out of the church.

He didn't come to the burial. •

After the funeral, Jack's life turned into a monochrome state. Arin and Danny, his bosses, forced him a month's leave, saying that he needed rest to heal his shoulder, and time to grieve over his partner. Time, that's all that they seem to say to him. Time heals all wounds. Jack didn't really want to rely on something so man made. His time was different from their time, but he didn't argue; admittedly, Jack agreed that some rest may do him some good, at least get rid of the fucking bags under his eyes.

A routine fell into place for Jack as the month rolled on: Get up, eat breakfast, stare at a wall in thought, go to physical therapy, each lunch, watch tv, go to grief counseling even though he told Danny twenty thousand times that he didn't need "the feeling fucker", come home, eat dinner, stay up till 3, sleep, then repeat. By the second week, Jack honestly thought he was going to go berserk. Life as an agent was not boring. He didn't even have anyone to talk to; his parents died when he was nineteen, and his siblings can't know about the job due to violation of code. Even though, they'd kill him for even taking this career path in the first place, so visiting was out of the question for a while, at least until the pewdiecry case was solved. Jack didn't want to think of all the things they could do to his siblings if they ever found out he wasn't an only child. He shuddered immensely at that thought.

"Are you okay, Jack?" Jack looked up at Suzy, his grief counselor, who was staring at him in concern. "You shuddered."

Suzy was Arin's wife, and also agency counselor. You get a lot of 'effed up people working in the agency; especially after traumatic missions that have made even the mightiest and stoniest of agents fall into the clutches of PTSD. Jack knew he had a small case of it; after all the shit he's been through, why wouldn't he have a bit? He was never sent to Suzy though, because he knew how to handle it and it not get in the way.

Arin was worried about Jack, this he was obviously aware of; him and Danny were the closest of friends that he has had in a long while. They always checked up on him, making sure that he was doing alright, and Suzy always made him the best cakes, which honestly, Jack didn't mind. He could see why they would send him to grief counseling this time. Seeing your best friend being shot in front of you because you cared for them is pretty fucking traumatic.

"Yeah, yeah, 'm all good, Suz," he said, shaking his head a little, adding a smile. "Jus' lost in m' thoughts, is all." Suzy hummed, her black acrylic nails tapping a soft rhythm on the desk.

"Want to talk about it? You know that will always help?" She said softly, trying once again to get Jack to open up. The Irishman shrugged, leaning back in his surprisingly soft wheelie chair. "Beats me. It's all pretty irrelevant to wh' were talkin' about; 'm not too worried 'bout my sanity jus' yet." Suzy let out a chuckle, leaning back as well, her blonde streak of bang making her dark eyes pop.

"Well that's good. Remember what I told you though, right?"

"Yeah yeah, write m' thoughts in a journal so I don't bottle it all up. I promise I will," Jack said dismissively, standing up and pulling at the gray sleeves of his sweater, a habit he did when he was uncomfortable.

"Well, that, and also, Danny, Arin and I are your friends, Jack. We do care about you and your well being. The only reason Arin made you come to me for counseling is because you wouldn't do it on your own." Jack looked away from her, knowing that to be true about him.

"Just try, okay? I swear you'll feel a hell of a lot better afterwards. You can't be a loud mouth, sassy badass all the time you know," Suzy said, cracking a smile when she saw the Irishman chuckle.

"Fuckin' watch me," he laughed, placing his hand on the doorknob. "And....yeah. I'll try. It won't be easy, but...I'll see where it takes me." Jack opened the door and stepped out into the lit, gray hallways of the Agency building, shutting the door behind him. He took a deep breath, running his hands through his unusually long hair; he was really due for a redye and a haircut.

Jack honestly didn't know why he dyed his hair bright green. Danny joked and said the vibrant color matched his personality, and he could see what he meant. Green and Jack just seemed to go together, like oatmeal in cookies; it didn't look like it'd fit, but when you put it together, it did. His lime green hair was like a way of expressing himself, in a way. It was his own unique style of rebellion and creativity. Jack was a very creative person, despite him saying otherwise, and it showed in his techniques of strategy and fighting. Green was a good color on Jack, and he was aiming to keep it.

"Jack!"

The Irishman turned around to see Arin walking towards him, a happy smile on his face. Jack put his hands in his pockets and smiled at him, genuinely happy to see him.

"Hey Arin, what's goin' on?" Arin pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, a mischievous grin on his face.

"I got a lead on Felix and Cry, after searching for almost two months." Jacks throat went dry, and he blinked in shock, almost not believing it for a second. It usually took them about five to find their next layout, but here it was in front of his eyes.

"Dude, how the hell did you find it?"

"I don't fucking know, it just was sent to me by a reliable source."

"MatPat?" Arin's shrug confirmed Jack's theory. MatPat was their mole, their most prized hacker and Quartermaster as well. Most of Jack's guns were made by MatPat.

"Anyway, it's an intense one. These are a list of series and codes that even MatPat can't comprehend. We all know we're damned if MatPat can't solve it." Jack's shoulders sagged, and he nodded, knowing there was almost nothing that can't get past him.

"But, I have some great news." Jack glanced at Arin, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"There was an agent that worked for us a while back. He's a super old friend, and one of the best damn agents if I ever saw. He actually worked on the case before you." Jack nodded, knowing that he's talked a little bit about the agent before him. His name was something-iplier; Jack couldn't really recall.

"Okay, how can he help?" Arin leaned close to him, muttering now.

"If anyone can solve these codes, it's him. He knows Cry and Felix almost as well as you do, know their motives. Luckily, I've managed to get back in contact with him and discuss some things." He handed Jack the note with the codes on them. "Here. MatPat will send a link to your watch, I need you to tear this up into little pieces so no one could find it."

Jack nodded slowly, still trying to comprehend everything. "What does this gotta do with me, though?" Arin smiled, placing his hands on his shoulders.

"Simple. Find him and ask him to help you. If he agrees, bring him back here. If he doesn't, just beg some more, he's too much of a softie." Jack blinked, looking down at the worn down paper in his fingers.

"O....okay. But, what's his name? I can't really find him without a name." Arin nodded, tapping his Apple Watch on his hand and then motioned for Jack to check his. Jack heard his tone go off and he looked down, seeing one word.

_Markiplier._


	3. Scars Souvenir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His job made him Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The link to the marks song is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cDHlqLPLTA
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, and lets hope I calm down before I rip my fathers head off ahahahaha :))))
> 
> Thanks for all the support!!!

The bar was worn down, right in the rugged streets of downtown Cincinnati, Ohio. Jack took a soft breath as he stuck his hands in his pea coat pockets, the chill winter wind going through him and swallowing him whole. After MatPat sent him the address, Jack thought it was some joke; what would a retired agent do at some seedy bar like this? It was anyone's guess. MatPat was never wrong though, so Jack got on a private jet from the agency and flee to Cincinnati Airport.

 

The fiery smell of whiskey greeted Jack as he walked into the bar, and he scrunched up his nose at the sadly familiar smell. It was small and wooden, the wood looking faded and old, showing its age. Buff men sat at tables, smoking cancer sticks and playing poker, eyes guarded like a watch dogs, waiting for the first sorry sap to fuck up. In the center near the back, there was a stage, about 30 feet wide (also wooden, Jack guessed they really went for the underground cult bar aesthetic) with a piano on it, and Jack realized he could hear music playing. He scooted over to the bar area and asked for a casual beer (Arin told him not to get too drunk on duty), and glanced around for the agent called "Markiplier".

 

Jack knew almost little to nothing about this mysterious character. All he knew was that he was a damn good shot and one of the best agents that ever worked in the Grump Agency. Jack came a close second. He was definitely curious to see who took the top of both Arin and Danny's list; they were a very acquired taste for a lot of reasons. He didn't know what this agent looked like, or sounded like; all Jack was given was that he worked here. Arin told him that he would just know who he was by looking at him. Apparently he had the agent look about him, despite being out of commission. That's good, because Markiplier was about to be sent back in, if everything went according to Arin's plan.

 

Jack was startled out of his thoughts by a baritone voice starting to swell, and he looked up to see a man now at the piano, and Jack watched with an interest.

 

The man had a similar hairstyle to Jacks, except in the place of his toxic waste green, it was a royal Atlantis blue, and it got in the man's face quite frequently. Jack also noted that the singer was of a Asian descent: Chinese, Japanese, or Korean, Jack wasn't cultured enough to remember the differences. His dark brown eyes looked older than his face though, weary and sad, like an old oak tree that had seen so much war and destruction pass through where he stood. Jack bit his lip, watching the man discreetly.

 

" _There's no sunshine_

_This impossible year_

_Only black days and sky greys_

_And clouds full of fear_

_And storms full of sorrow_

_That won't disappear_

_Just typhoons_

_And monsoons_

_This impossible year._ "

 

The song this man was singing also seemed to fit the mood that the bar had; that feeling of hopelessness that seemed to only be drowned out by the baritone singing and the bottom of a glass. Jack felt the song hit him as well. Whatever it was, it seemed to be describing his life to the point. He shuddered, feeling the man's brokenness in his singing and voice. This guy had passion, and made everyone feel the sorrow this song had; the agent could see the bar's customers fall to a sober, macabre setting, stirring their poorly made meal between the tongs of their fork.

 

_"There's no you and me_

_This impossible year_

_Just a beachfront of bad blood_

_And a coast that's unclear_

_The bitter pill I swallow_

_The scars souvenir_

_That tattoo, your last bruise_

_This impossible year_."

 

Jack blinked when the man's eyes looked up and locked eyes with his, and he could feel redness creeping up his neck to his cheeks, but he didn’t dare break contact with the man. The man’s lips quirked up into a short smirk, but immediately went back to his somber look as he kept singing, still looking at Jack.

 

The Irishman knew that he wasn’t all the way straight; after countless soul searches and also internet searches, he came to terms that Jack was in fact pansexual, so he didn’t really have any shame in saying the bar singer was indeed very attractive; the problem was, that this bar singer was definitely Markiplier, the retired agent Arin sent him to find.

 

Finally, the song ended, and Markiplier’s audience applauded him politely, then resumed back to their daily self wallowing. Jack cleared his throat and went back to his drink. If the other man got the message that he was sending them through their eye sex, then he should be sliding up to him in a short while.

 

After about 5 minutes and Jack’s refusal of another beer, he felt a body sit next to him, and he knew it was Markiplier. Jack glanced over to see the other man, dressed in a seemingly elegant casual outfit. A light blue shirt hugged his fit chest (Jack assumed it was from his basic training as an agent, as he went through the same thing), topped off with a gray suit jacket, much like the one he himself wore to the funeral. AJeans hugged his legs and, yes, his ass, and converse sat on his feet. Jack felt a little inferior in his black peacoat, black skinny jeans and high tops, with a beanie covering his head. He took the beanie off, stuffing it in his pockets.

 

Don’t forget the fact Markiplier was outright staring at him.

 

“Take a picture, it’ll last ya longer,” He started off, keeping a neutral look painted on his face. Jack didn’t look at him fully, not yet anyway; don’t want to be a hypocrite, after all.

 

The Irishman heard a chuckle. “Ah, cut the shit. I know why you’re here.” Jack looked up at the other man, seeing him lean against the bar counter casually, like he wasn’t indirectly threatening Jack, rather flirting with him. He raised his eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Markiplier rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

 

“You’re one of Arin’s new lackies, aren’t you? You have that look.”

 

“I don’t have a clue as to wha’ look yer goin’ afta, but if ya insist,” Jack shrugged, turning to stare at him. “In my opinion, I dressed more like a sorry lad who sold his soul to shitty coffee at a chain shop. Is that really yer interpretation?” Markiplier was fighting a smile, Jack could see, but his eyes were still hard and old, reminding Jack of that oak tree again.

 

“You have a point. Seriously though, why are you here? Arin could have just called me if he needed me, he does have my phone number. I love him, but he’s so fucking dramatic,” Markiplier said, getting an edge in his low voice again, sending a slight shiver down Jack’s spine. He shook it off, and held up two fingers in a salute, much like the one he gave Ken.

 

“Jacksepticeye. Jack, for short. I’m Arin’s top agent, and also th’ main agent workin’ on th’ Pewdiecry case, after ya, Mr. Markiplier,” Jack said, brushing his hair out of his face. Markiplier looked surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting this Irish young adult to be on the case, especially the top agent. The other man’s face darkened.

 

“It’s Mark. Markiplier is an alias I try to forget about,” he stated, gaze hardening at the thought.

 

“But we both know that hasn’t happened, has it?” The younger agent said quietly, still keeping that calm neutral look. Jack was usually never quiet. He was loud and proud of it; yelling was his specialty, and the Irishman was known for smiling and being happy.

 

Just like Mark, though, Jack has seen shit. He’s seen death, and people being pushed to the very limits to survive. Soon, the loud rambunctious six year old in spirit faded, a part of him that he locked down unless a case came up when he needed it. Younger Jack was so innocent, so full of life and high on it. His job has made him Atlas, putting the world on his shoulders. He didn’t really mind though. His younger self also wanted, with all his heart, to help people, and that’s what he’s doing. Jack couldn’t be prouder of himself, even when times got tough.

 

Mark sighed, leaning back against the back of his chair. “No, no it hasn’t.” A silence befell them for a while, taking in each other’s company. Jack then cleared his throat; he did, in fact, have a job to do.

 

“I had a partner.” Mark’s head turned towards him, eyebrow raised in question.

 

“His name was Ken. Ken was one of my very few friends. We had each other’s backs; I knew his strategies, an’ he knew how I fought. We were a fantastic team, one of Arin’s favorites. Then...we found a lead on Felix an’ Cry.” Mark’s face darkened again, like a permanent scowl on his face. “We infiltrated th’ base. I got wounded, an’ Ken hacked th’ doors open for me. So I went to confront th’ bastards an’...” Jack cleared his throat.

 

“They had caught ‘im. Felix somehow caught Ken off guard an’ knocked ‘im out, draggin’ him to where Cry and I were,” The Irishman stared down at the bottom of his glass. “I tried to stop ‘em, but..they shot ‘im. Right in front of me, ‘cause I cared too much ‘bout ‘im.” Jack could see Mark’s eyes soften slightly. Jack turned to him, having this look of finality.

 

“Look, I know that ya went into retirement early for some reason or another. I frankly, don’t really care. All I care ‘bout is th’ fact that a girl is a widow an’ a single mother now, ‘cause of those fucking pieces of shit.” Jack’s voice went cold, and he clenched his glass tight in his hand. “An’ there are so many other voices, too. Ones that are never heard of, ones who loved ones were just taken away from them.

 

“Pewdiecry corporation needs to be stopped, an’ I want to be th’ one to put ‘em behind bars, or hold th’ gun to their heads.” He stared straight into Mark’s eyes, hoping to convey the message that yeah, Jack needs his help. He can’t do this on his own, he really fucking can’t. Jack wasn’t stable enough, even though he thinks he is. Truth was, he was lost at a crossroads, so stuck in his thoughts and worries for other people that he’ll never be able to think rationally.

 

Mark stared back at him, then cleared his throat, standing up. Jack looked up at him, confused.

 

“What are you waiting for, Jacksepticeye? I agree with you; these bastards need to be put behind bars. I’ll help, but I have a little favor in exchange.” The Irishman nodded.

  
“I’ll hold the gun to kill them with you.”


	4. It's time the fat cats had a heart attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The airport was crowded, per always. The hustle bustle of businessmen angrily trying to sort out their cancelled flights due to the weather and mothers holding their crying kids as they waited to board filled Jack with a sort of nostalgic feeling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support on this is overwhelming. Thank you so much.  
> I'm also co-writing a story with collberational, the writer of the series called "Of Flying And Fighting" called Much To Do About Loving, which you should check out.  
> Title lyric comes from Uprising from Muse!  
> I hope you enjoy!!!

The ride to the airport was quiet. Mark was staring out the window in deep thought, and Jack was looking at his hands, examining the many tiny scars that marred the skin. There was one that was a deep slash across his palm, one that he got from his first mission against Cry. The medics said that there was a high chance that he would lose all use of his hand, but here he was, still using that exact hand to kick ass.

 

“What’s on yer mind?” Jack asked the other man, trying to make causal small talk. If this was the guy who he was going to have to work with for the next few months, he should at least try to be friends with him. Mark glanced at him, a small smile on his face, which made Jack’s heart beat a little bit faster. 

 

“Just how badly I’m going to suck once we get to the Agency,” he said, chuckling a little bit. “I’m a bit out of practice, like, three years out of practice. Who knows if I’ll even be fit enough to walk up stairs, let alone fight Felix and Cry.” Jack cracked a smile at that, nodding solemnly.

 

“Yer right. I can almost see th’ wrinkles on yer face, old man,” he teased, covering his smile with his hand. Mark looked mock offended, brandishing his hand to his chest.

 

“Who are you calling old man, gray hairs?!” The blue haired man crowed, pointing to the dark brown sections of his hair, and Jack scoffed, pointing his nose up in the air.

 

“I earned these gray hairs, good sir!”

 

“And I earned these wrinkles, asshole!”

 

They both started laughing, and soon fell into a comfortable silence. Jack ran a hand through his hair, then put the beanie back on, hiding his beacon of hair. Mark raised his eyebrows, watch him do so.

 

“Why are you wearing that? It’s not that cold,” he asked, motioning to the hat. Jack touched it with his forefinger.

 

“Well, Jacksepticeye is known for his green hair, an’ th’ chances of Pewdiecry, as they’ve dubbed themselves now, are incredibly high. I would be ready for an attack sometime before or after we get to th’ airport,” Jack said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the polyester seat. “Arin made me ride in a private areoplane, so don’t worry ‘bout that. Somehow that bastard knew ya wouldn’t say no.”

 

Mark smiled wanly. “Arin and I are as close as you can get without him getting all up in my ass. He knows me like the back of my hand. I’m not surprised.” Jack huffed out a laugh, smiling a small smile. 

 

“Yer never surprised by anythin’ are ya?”

 

“I’ve seen it all, Jackaboy,” Mark said, noticing the sudden tension in the Irishman’s shoulders. “Are you okay?” 

 

Jack clenched his fists and took a deep breath, smiling such a forced smile it was a grimace. “Yeah. Just...Cry calls me that. That’s his name for me, Jackaboy. So it’s kind a sore thing for me.” Mark’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and he leaned back against his seat as well, looking out the window.

 

They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride there.

 

The airport was crowded, per always. The hustle bustle of businessmen angrily trying to sort out their cancelled flights due to the weather and mothers holding their crying kids as they waited to board filled Jack with a sort of nostalgic feeling. It reminded him of when him and his family moved from Ireland to America when he was 9. 

 

_ He had gotten a cheap pizza from a place called Pizza Hut and was munching on it quietly, watching the people go by and wondering what they could possibly be doing at the National Airport. His mom was talking quietly to her husband when she felt someone tug on her sleeve. _

 

_ “Ey mum! What’s happenin’ ova’ there?” He asked, pointing towards a scuffle. There was a man in a professional looking uniform pulling a seemingly ordinary guy into a full Nelson, and the partner was putting handcuffs on him. Everyone seemed to pass by it without a care, which baffled Mrs. Mcloughlin. _

 

_ “Well, dearie, that man is a bad person, so th’ uniformed men are takin’ ‘em away so he won’t hurt anyone,” she said, looking down at her youngest son at the moment. His eyes got big and he watched the cops in a whole new light now, seeing them take the man away.  _

 

_ “That’s amazin’! Mum, do ya think I could do that?!” Jack asked, looking back up at his mother. Mrs. Mcloughlin chuckled, and patted his head of brown hair. _

 

_ “Honestly, Sean, I think ya could do anythin’ ya set yer mind ta. Just make sure it’s fer th’ right reasons, alright?” Jack nodded seriously, making a salute with the wrong hand. _

 

_ “Ma’am yes ma’am!” _

 

Jack smiled sadly at the memory, looking at the ground as he waited for the pilot’s call that the jet was ready. Mark was on his phone, playing some game involving camera’s and five nights or something, he wasn’t really sure. 

 

Suddenly, Jack got the shivers: the shivers that he was being watched. He could feel multiple eyes on him, and he immediately got into high alert, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it mindlessly, hoping it looked like he wasn’t paying attention.

 

“Ya feel that?” He muttered to Mark, who hadn’t lost his concentration on his game. Mark tapped his fingers against the touchpad dully, but mumbled, “Yeah, I feel that. There’s two guys watching us from the east and one from the south. They’re not very subtle; Cry’s getting sloppy.” Mark smirked, still looking at his game. Jack didn’t look at him, still pretending to text.

 

“Good. I’m gonna pretend I’m usin’ the loo. Arin should’ve sent ya my number in th’ car, yes?” The other man nodded. “Alright, when I get up an’ leave, tell me how many follow me. After a couple of minutes, get up to go get a snack or somethin’. Once we’re done, meet me at boarding dock eight.”

 

Mark thought the plan over in his head and hummed his approval. “Okay. No innocent hurt during this either; be careful.” 

 

“Of course. No one should get hurt except th’ poor saps who decided they were gonna follow us,” Jack said lowly, smirking now as well. “See ya in thirty?”

 

“See you in thirty.”

 

Jack sighed, standing up and turning to Mark. “I’m gonna piss, I’ll be right back,” he said, casual, but loud enough for the goons to be able to pick up what he’s saying. The blue haired agent snorted, motioning with his hand to the direction the bathrooms were.

 

“Knock yourself out. Don’t fall in though, I don’t want any more fucking jet lag than what I have to go through already.” Jack laughed, promising that and left. 

 

He walked a short while, and immediately got into hyper mode. Every sense was on alert, pointing out any anomalies that occurred near him and made sure that he was loose, but ready to pounce when need be. Soon enough, his phone beeped, and Jack checked his Watch.

 

_ Two followed you. One’s stuck with me. Good luck, Irish boy. -M _

 

Jack hummed, and saw a men’s bathroom near a small coffee shop that looked as little occupied as possible. He glanced around discreetly. One man he saw was in a business suit, navy with a gray tie and a white undershirt, pretending to observe the three coffee flavors of the shop. His hair was in a ponytail, and Jack could see the beginning of the scar on his lower right jaw. He smiled, knowing he’d pass by his peripheral vision if he walked into the bathroom. Another was a Chinese woman, sitting on a bench across from the shop, reading something on her phone. Her eyes were covered by sunglasses, and her lips were a ruby red, popping the business suit she had on. Her heels looked like they could cut a bitch, and Jack was ready to accept that challenge.

 

As casual as he could, Jack walked to the bathroom, and went into a stall, but holding it shut, readying up for two; the woman looked like she could lie her way out of a paper bag, so she would find no trouble of entering the men’s bathroom. Soon enough, he heard the click of heels and the thump of men’s dress shoes as they walked in.

 

“Maybe he really needed to use the bathroom,” the man said, a monotone bass that reminded Jack of the stupid sidekick in movies. He heard a smack and a yelp, and guessed the woman hit him.

 

“Nonsense! He caught onto us, both him and his acquaintance did. How the hell Jacksepticeye got a partner so quickly that’s experienced is beyond my will to know. Right now our mission is to obtain him and bring him back to the boss.” Jack knew they meant Cry and Felix, but he had absolutely no explanation why they’d want to capture him alive. He breathed quietly, listening in.

 

“Search every stall for him. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get out of this damned place. Hopefully Augustus took care of the other one so we don’t have to worry about him.”

 

_ Not likely. _

 

Jack heard a smack as the guy hit open the stall door about three doors down. He gripped the door, readying his chance to strike. Hopefully this went well, or he’ll be opening his door to a jawful of fist.

 

_ Smack.  _ The second door was opened. Jack stood still, waiting for the nanosecond pause of stillness before he hit the door. 

 

_ Smack.  _ One more door. Jack set his feet, and steeled his grip on the handle.

 

Silence. 

 

Jack struck, pushing the door open with all of his might, successfully hitting the guy right in the nose quite hard, making him stumble and fall to the ground. Jack ducked and somersaulted in between the two lackies, and hopped on his feet. The girl snarled and kicked with her shoe, but he put his forearms in an x across his face and blocked it, only getting a nasty scratch where the heel hit him. In return, he grabbed her leg, making her lose her balance and fall over. 

 

The guy was up, and stumbled his way like a drunkard to the Irishman due to the frazzle of his skull. His nose was definitely broken, which satisfied Jack; his plan wasn’t total horse shit after all. He grabbed the recovering woman’s heel and used the sharp heel to stab at the pressure points that were visible to him, making the dunce crumble like a tissue paper. He then whipped his fist back with the heel and knocked the girl in the temple; not hard enough to kill her, just to make her unconscious for a long time. 

 

After she fell with a thump to the floor, he realized his arm was bleed quite profusely for being just cut with a heel. He grabbed some paper towels and wrapped them around the wound; he’ll get the flight attendant Arin sent to fix it up for him. He smiled at his handiwork then noticed the small walkie talkie on the girl’s hand. Jack bent down and picked it up, grinning wickedly as he twirled it in his fingers. 

 

Turning it on, he said, “Testin’ testin’. I just wanted to say that ya tried, ya two. But it’s gonna take a lot more than dumbest and th’ devil wears prada to take me down like that. Also, yer a load of bull shit.” 

 

With that, he stomped on it, crushing any sort of communication Cry and Felix could have had with him. Time to return to what he had planned originally. 


	5. From the Second That I was Born It Seems I Had A Loaded Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then how do you do your job and not break down?” 
> 
> “I think ‘bout all th’ people I’ve helped. All th’ families that I’ve saved, all th’ sorrows I’ve prevented...that’s what makes it worth it. If I break down, I won’t be able to help other people. All my life, all I’ve wanted to do is help people. If I broke down, I wouldn’t be able to do it anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! Junior year is tough. All the free time that I have I use to write. Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait. //Finally some plot//
> 
> Don't forget to check out collaberational and I's story on her page, "Much To Do About Loving" for other pieces that I've written! She's the best.
> 
> My tumblr: pellucidpilgrim.tumblr.com
> 
> Song Title from Shots by Imagine Dragons
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :-)

When Jack finally got to boarding dock eight, he was trying not to drip blood onto the floor from his scratch(damn, those heels must have been sharpened to be used as a weapon) and thoroughly done with the whole entire day as of now. He slumped into a chair, his head lolling back as he let out a heavy sigh, hoping to god that Mark wouldn’t take long.

 

After about four minutes of sitting, Mark finally came into view, sporting a bruise on his jaw, but smiling nonetheless. Jack pushed himself up to a proper sitting position and looked up at the retired agent.

 

“Had a bit of trouble?” He asked, smirking. Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes and flicking his forehead.

 

“Oh fuck off. I told you, I’m out of practice. Didn’t take too long though; the guy was out in no time.” He then noticed Jack’s wound. “Dude, what the hell happened to you?”

 

“I got cut by a fuckin’ heel of a shoe. Th’ bitch must’ve sharpened those or somthin’. Now I’ve got a nasty slash on my forearm th’ size of a ink pen gushin’ out blood,” Jack grumbled, standing up. Mark looked slightly concerned.

 

“I said that no one got hurt, that also included you, you dumbass. You okay?” He asked, trying to sound stern yet soft. Jack felt a bit touched by the sentiment, even if it was over something as stupid as this. 

 

“Yeah, ‘m fine Mark. Just a li’ scratch, nothin’ too worrisome,” he gave him a small smile. “Come on, I’m ready to get th’ fuck home. I’m exhausted.” Mark smiled back, nodding.

 

“Yeah. Me too.”

 

When the pair got back to the Agency, Mark was immediately tackled by teary-eyed Danny and Arin, who were very happy to see him ok and grateful that he took the case. Jack could see that Mark was getting emotional as well, which made him smile a little. That was over once Arin noticed the nasty cut bleeding through the bandage that Jack put on in the jet. 

 

That was how Jack now was sitting in the nurse’s office and letting the medic, Holly, put another bandage on him. Her pink hair was in a loose bun, and swirls of it hung loosely in her face, reminding Jack of candy floss he used to eat back home. She was humming a soft tune, making Jack feel relaxed and content.

 

“How’s Ross doin’?” He asked the woman, thinking that he hasn’t seen the enigmatic man in quite some time. He was another agent too, Rubberninja, and he was usually inside and always ready to talk about video games with him, or draw. Ross was fun to have around, and certainly made Jack’s mood go up constantly. 

 

Holly smiled, and tore the now new bandage off of the roll. “He’s on another mission. I think it’s a rescue…? I’m not really sure. Nothing too dangerous. He should actually be home soon.” 

 

Jack knew that Holly worried for her husband all the time. It was just her motherly and happy personality. They met on a mission and the rest is history. It makes Jack not want a partner even more than he usually does; he doesn’t want someone to constantly worry for his safety when they could be happier not having to worry.

 

“I heard Mark’s back,” Holly said casually, checking over the rest of Jack to make sure she couldn’t find anything else wrong with him. Jack knew she wouldn’t find anything; not physically, anyway. She just wanted to ask about Mark, which is fine. Mark was apparently a really big deal around the Agency; everyone seemed to know who he was. Jack counted a number of ten people he had reunited with before he was taken away by the duo, wanting to reminisce and talk about things. He nodded, moving his arm slowly.

 

“Yeah, he is. He’s supposed ta be helpin’ me fight Pewdiecry,” Jack said, approving of the tightness of the bandage. “‘M pretty excited. From what I’ve gathered, he’s a legend ‘round here.” Holly hummed her agreement, the same soft smile on her face.

 

“Yeah, he’s really good at what he does. It’s amazing what he can do, and he never got big headed about it, despite his definite favoritism from the others. He kind of reminds me of you,” she said, making his spine straighten with surprise.

 

“Of me? How?” Jack asked, curiosity in his voice. She chuckled, starting to put up her supplies.

 

“You both don’t do this for your own personal benefit. You both want to genuinely help other people, and make sure the world is a better place.” Her case snapped shut and Holly stood up, smiling knowingly at herself.

 

“And that, Jack, makes the best agents.”

  
  


Jack walked into the training room, running a hands through his showered hair. Despite the fact that he was a professional agent who was fit enough to lift at least four hundred pounds, he wanted to keep working hard and being fit; he couldn’t afford to be out of shape on the field. Placing the white towel that was faded with green from drying his hair too much around his neck, he sighed, stretching his sore muscles. Jack used his training to think, and all he thought about was Mark and Pewdiecry.

 

Obviously, they have something against Jack, if the airport incident was any indication. As long as he’s been an agent, he has never seen Cry or Felix take someone hostage. Why was he any different than the others he had killed without batting an eyelash? Jack didn’t see himself as anything special, or some big shot. He was just a guy who wanted to do the right thing. Why was that so mind boggling to the two villains? 

 

Then there’s Mark: the beautiful, wise, and broken man. Jack didn’t know what to think of him. Obviously, there was a connection. Was Jack imagining it though? He couldn’t be sure. He was certainly attracted to the man though, there’s no doubt in that. When he was around Mark, he felt peace. Maybe it was because he  _ understood _ . Mark knew what he went through, and knew what the hell Jack was suffering each day; he was in Jack’s shoes not even three years ago. So of course there was a reason Jack felt close to a guy he just met. 

 

Was that the real reason though?

 

His thought process was interrupted by the sound of boxing gloves punching a heavy object. Curious as to who would also work out at this hour, he crept over to the other side of the room, and leaned against the wall, seeing the guy his mind was thinking of not even a second ago.

 

Mark was in a green sleeveless tank, and Jack could see the sweat dripping down his tanned skin like water off a smooth river stone. His gaze was entirely focused on the bag in front of him, not noticing the Irishman come in. His punches were quick and solid, impressing Jack; this was three years out of practice for him? The Irishman only wished that was him when he retired. Mark didn’t have his glasses on, so Jack could see the deepness of the brown in his eyes, and it made him feel like he was being swallowed up in them if he gazed for too long. He also felt a sort of contentment. 

 

Jack didn’t know what it truly was, but he placed the contentment in the category of trust. 

 

“Yer really hittin’ that thing, aren’t ya?” He asked, startling Mark. Mark panted, peering over at the younger agent with tired surprise. 

 

“You work out this early?” Jack nodded, pushing himself off the wall.

 

“Yeah. Only time I have to think, if ‘m bein’ honest.” 

 

“I understand,” Mark smiled softly, wiping his face with his own towel. Jack smiled back, trying not to watch the muscles of Mark’s toned biceps. He let out a breath, then a grin appeared on his face.

 

“Also, out of practice my arse. I wish I could be three years out of practice if I could punch like that,” he exclaimed, making Mark bark out a laugh. 

 

“Listen, I have barely any friends. What’s a decommissioned agent’s go to place? The gym.” Mark sat down on a bench, beckoning Jack to join him. “It’s just the violence that I’m out of practice of. Dealing with it, you know?” Jack’s wide grin faded into a sad, soft smile, and he nodded, sitting down next to the half Korean man (the green haired man learned his ethnicity in the car ride to the airport).

 

“I get it. Seein’ th’ stuff we see..it takes some gettin’ used to,” he said, leaning back a bit to stare at the tiled ceiling. “But, that’s wha’ makes us stronger, right? Gettin’ used to all th’ death an’ destruction.

 

“It seems though, that ‘m loosin’ my humanity when I try to brush it away.” Jack’s shoulders slumped softly. “I shouldn’t be used to seein’ people die. That’s not th’ world I wanna live in. I don’ think I’ll ever get used to it.” Mark stared at the Irishman, confused somewhat.

 

“Then how do you do your job and not break down?” 

 

“I think ‘bout all th’ people I’ve helped. All th’ families that I’ve saved, all th’ sorrows I’ve prevented...that’s what makes it worth it. If I break down, I won’t be able to help other people. All my life, all I’ve wanted to do is help people. If I broke down, I wouldn’t be able to do it anymore.”

 

Mark looked at him, and saw that Jack was looking down at his worn sneakers, kicking the bottoms against the ground softly. He could feel the grim determination leaking out of the Irishman, and it tightened his heart. So, Mark put his arm around him, despite how bad he probably smelled, and pulled him close, making Jack lay his head on his shoulder.

 

They stayed like that until the sun rose about the valley. 

  
  


Arin called the both of them in for a meeting about the case, and Jack was very anxious, to say the least. MatPat had finally found the coordinates to the exact location a couple of weeks after Jack got Mark and brought him here. Today, they were finally going to hear the plan that the dynamic duo had thought up for them, and he could tell Mark was nervous. His foot kept bouncing on the carpeted floor in the meeting room, driving everyone else slightly insane. Jack glanced at him, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Ya okay, Mark?” He questioned, seeing Mark tense and his foot slowly stop. He cleared his throat, and let out a shuddery breath.

 

“Yeah, I’m completely fine. Why’d you ask?” The older man reassured in false cheerfulness, a wide smile on his face. Jack tsked, and placed a hand on Mark’s thigh in reassurance. 

 

“Ya’ll be fine,” he stated firmly. “Hell, ‘m a bit nervous too. It’s okay to admit it. Jus’ don’ let it control you.” Mark paused, thinking for a moment, then nodded, smiling.

 

“I get it. Thank you.”

 

“Of course, man. I understand.”

 

Their conversation was cut short by Arin and Danny walking into the room, joined by the other high ups. Jack waved as Ross came in, and he hugged Jack, and tackled Mark. Apparently, no one told him that he’d be back. Suzy gave both of them a kiss on the cheek, sitting next to Arin at the very front of the table. Barry gave them both a sincere smile and sat down as well. There only seemed to be one person missing, and Mark blinked.

 

“Where’s Jon?” He asked, confused. Jack’s face fell, and Arin’s jaw tightened. 

 

“We forgot ya don’t know,” Jack muttered quietly. “Jon died in th’ field a year ago. Rescued a family from a bomb that was minutes from explodin’ in their building. Th’ family made it; he didn’t.” 

 

Mark’s face fell with each word. The Agency council was silent, all mourning softly the loss of their close friend. It was a wound that had not quite healed yet, and Jack hated bringing it up. Mark had to know though, and it broke his heart.

 

“Well,” Mark cleared his throat. “That happens, doesn’t it? I mean look at the field we’re in. It’s not exactly certain that we’ll be safe. At least he died a hero. That’s the best way to go down.” 

 

They all silently agreed, and there was a pause of silence before Arin stood up. 

 

“Right,” he said, pushing a button on the table. A hologram of what Jack guessed was the location appeared and loomed over the table. “This is the place where MatPat said Pewdiecry was. All information Danny got on it was that it’s an abandoned foster home somewhere in, get this: Hawaii.”

 

The council all shared weird looks, wondering why the hell they’d set up base no where near the rest of the States. Jack blinked, wondering to himself why that was. Isn’t their only goal as much death and destruction as possible?

 

Mark was staring at the building, and the Irishman could see gears turning in his brain. What was the half Korean thinking about? Jack wished he could read minds as well as he could read cryptic coding. It was driving him insane.

 

Suddenly, Mark shot up, staring at the hologram with widened eyes. “Holy shit.” Arin looked at him confused.

 

“What is it, Mark?” Mark gulped, running a hand shakily through his blue hair. Jack stared at him, concerned.

 

“That’s A hui hou Orphanage,” he breathed. Everyone looked at him confused. Mark covered his mouth with his hand, staring at the building with something that Jack could only place as nostalgia. 

  
“That’s where I grew up before the Agency. That's where I started.”


	6. We have a plan now apparently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if we did somethin’ that we’ve never done before?” Jack asked, as a light bulb slowly started glowing in his mind. Arin raised his eyes at his top agent, curious to hear what Jack had in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I'm posting. I'm so sorry about the hiatus. Still getting my computer fixed (this is on my phone, so sorry if format is screwed), but enjoy this semi short chapter before we get into some real shit. 
> 
> Tumblr: pellucidpilgrim.tumblr.com

The room was silent. Everyone was staring at Mark with newfound eyes, and Arin’s mouth formed the shape of a spaghetti-o.

“Oh yeah! I remember reading that in your files. But why the fuck would Felix and Cry want to take base there?"

"Do you think they know Mark's working on the case along with Jack?" Danny asked, and the room grew fatally tense. Jack ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

"I wouldn't be surprised. They always know one step ahead of us. It's always been like that." Mark sat down, nodding, his hands making a steeple under his chin.

"Always watching, always knowing. They seem to have all these moles in places. Just stopping Felix and Cry won't stop the gigantic empire that they've created." The council nodded in solemn agreement, the room going quiet as they tried to think of ways to trick the tricksters.

“What if we did somethin’ that we’ve never done before?” Jack asked, as a light bulb slowly started glowing in his mind. Arin raised his eyes at his top agent, curious to hear what Jack had in mind.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. Cry an’ Felix know Jacksepticeye an’ Markiplier, top agents of Grump Agency. But who they don’ know are Sam William and Tim Edward, business promoters lookin’ for a spot in Hawaii,’ Jack said, a mischievous smile on his face. Danny’s eyes widened, and smiled wickedly.

“Are you suggesting you two go undercover?”

“Maybe.”

Ross whooped, pumping his fist in the air. “Dude, that’s fucking brilliant. You both are known for coming in, guns blazing. They’ll never suspect that you would take the sneaky route.” The room seemed to get a bit brighter with the thought of Jack’s idea working.

“I hate to play devil’s advocate, but what happens if they do expect it?” Arin asked, pointing a pencil at Jack. He shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“We wing it an’ hope we don’ fuck up.”

Making Jack and Mark’s new identities was something MatPat could do in his sleep. In just thirty minutes, he was handing the two agents their new names, birthdates, social security, and even an address with a prideful smile. “I’m usually not the arrogant type, but I’m really proud of this. If you get found, I’ll jump off a cliff.”

“Please don’t do that,” Mark said with a chuckle, sliding the identity in his wallet. Tim Edward. Twenty-eight. Born October 3, 1988. Business Promoter.

Needless to say, Matt did stunningly well.

“Thanks a bunch, Matt,” Jack said gratefully, sticking his in his wallet as well. His hair was tied back into a small ponytail, making Mark just a little bit dizzy. Mark was just wearing a beanie, his bags next to him and his plane ticket in hand. They had to get tickets because taking the private jet would add a little bit too much suspiciousion. Not that Mark minded; plane rides were relaxing to him, in a way. Jack paled a little bit, making him raise his eyebrow.

Guess Mark was definitely getting the window seat.

“Alright, you guys have everything?” Arin asked, meeting them outside where the car was going to take them to LAX. Jack looked at mark, and they both nodded, smiling in grim determination.

“Okay. Remember what I told you shitheads. If you need any help, call us on a private hotline. We have Barry in Hawaii at the moment, waiting for your distress signal. Call him up if you need us, okay? It’s too dangerous to call us on your own phones. They could be tracking you.”

"Alright. We'll be careful, Arin." Danny was standing next to him, his arms crossed and a look of nervousness on his face. Then he walked forward and hugged the both of them tight.

"If you don't come back I'll go and fucking kill you myself," he muttered, patting them both on the back. Mark chuckled, hugging him back.

"Yeah yeah. We get it Danny. I'll miss you too." Jack nodded in agreement and hugged him as well.

"Wish us luck. Hopefully we'll be able to nip this at th' bud," the Irishman said, his hands sneaking into his sweatshirt, a sign of nervousness. Mark placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled softly at him, making Jack's heart beat just a bit faster.

"Good luck you two. I wouldn't put my faith into anyone else," Arin said with a smile, standing next to Danny. The two agents smiled one last time at them before getting into the car, closing the last opportunity to back out.

 

LAX was always busy, this Jack knew in the back of his mind, just like all Los Angeles residents do. It was the airport, the airport that could get you anywhere. Jack was glad to have it near his own home, but right now that crying kid near him was about to get a fistful of pillow if they didn't shut up. He groaned, burying his head into said pillow, trying to drown out the sound.

"You alright?" Mark asked to his right, where they were nestled into the seats together. Because of suspicion, they didn't get first class, which Jack was fine with; up until he got a headache. He nodded into his pillow though, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his temples.

"Yeah, jus' got a bad headache, an' that fuckin' kid ain't helpin' none," the Irishman said, muffled by the pillow. Mark awed, and rubbed his back.

"Wow, that sucks, but I totally agree on the kid thing. Maybe we can throw peanuts at them to make them shut up." Jack chuckled at that, sitting up and holding his head.

"Yeah, cause we won't get kicked off for that."

"Don't knock it until you try it, Jack," Mark chastised, pulling up the cover on the window so he could see outside.

Jack could feel nervousness brewing in his belly. He fucking hated heights, so as karma would have it, he hated take offs. And landing. And turbulence. Just, flying in general. He shifted uneasily in his seat, trying to take slow breaths and hoping Mark didn't notice; he didn't need to be made fun of more than he usually did.

Sadly though, they've come to know each other like the back of their hand (sharing understanding of traumatizing experiences can do that to people) and immediately turned to him.

"Jack, are you okay? You're shaking man." Jack nodded, an unconvincing smile on his face.

"Yeah, totally fine Mark," he said, giving him a thumbs up. Mark just gave him a pointed look, like he's saying 'I'm not going to take your shit'.

"I know a filthy liar when I see one. Tell me what's up." Jack sighed dejectedly, running a hand through his hair (he took the ponytail down to help the headache; didn't help at all, really. Reddit was wrong) and smiling an embarrassed smile.

"Well, it's jus'....'m afraid of heights. So in return, I hate takin' off. An' landin'. An' turbulence. I jus' hate flights," he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. Mark blinked and smiled back reassuringly.

"I get it. It's totally fine you know; I don't care if you want to hold my hand," he said jokingly, throwing in a wink.

Jack tried not to blush as he joked back, "I’ll hold yer hand when I’m lyin’ over yer bleedin’ body.”

Mark snorted, shoving him. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” Jack laughed, forgetting about the plane taking off. Suddenly, he felt the bump of the plane leaving the ground and he stiffened, Mark immediately going into concerned mode.

“Hey, hey hey. Let’s try to sleep, alright?” The half Korean rested his hand on Jack’s neck, and with his other hand placed a pillow in his lap. Gently, Mark laid Jack’s head in his lap, running his fingers through his hair.

Jack was facedown in the pillow and had to make sure he wasn’t making it burst into flames with how red his face was. He was inches away from Mark’s dick and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you up when we get there, ok?” He told the Irishman, smiling a soft smile. Jack gulped, but nodded as he could already feel himself dozing off.

“Alright. I trust ya.”


	7. A Close Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They were a deep dark brown, and he couldn’t help but think of the trees of Ireland in winter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long hiatus in between updates! I can only get a computer Monday and Wednesday so I try my best to write when I can ;/; I hope you enjoy this chapter!! Thanks for waiting. 
> 
> Tumblr: pellucidpilgrim.tumblr.com

Jack was shaken awake by Mark, who smiled a soft smile at drowsy Jack. It was quite adorable.

“Okay Jackaboy, time to wake up. We've got to get our stuff and get to the hotel Arin set up for us.” Jack nodded, stretching his back and neck with a crack. He winced, but it felt better afterwards. Leaning across Mark, he looked out the window at the beautiful sky waiting for the two agents. He honestly couldn’t wait. Jack had never been to such a sunny and clean place; L.A was sunny, but it was clogged up by pollution and smoke.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mark said, smiling at Jack’s reaction. He nodded, looking out in awe.

“This is amazin’,” he muttered, chuckling softly. “I’ve never really seen such a beach in my life. it’s insane.” Mark hummed, pulling him back from the window by his shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s really cool. The weather’s always nice and you always feel….different. I remember, when I was little, hunting for crabs at night under such a bright full moon it was like it’s own sun.” Jack smiled softly, watching Mark recount his childhood.

“I was kind of sad I left for Cincinnati when I was adopted, but I was more excited to have a mom and dad. I always looked different, being half Korean, I learned, and being from a place like Hawaii. I’m proud of being from Hawaii, though. It’s a beautiful place.” Mark gripped his fist tightly and let out a tight breath.

“And now those fucking bastards are going to ruin it.”

Jack frowned at that. After some hesitation, he put his hand over Mark’s fist, squeezing it. “Don’t let these assholes ruin a happy moment fer ya. I remember, startin’ off in th’ Agency, they would target all th’ things that made me happy, an’ ruin ‘em. Th thing is, though, it was only ruined ‘cause I let ‘em. Keep those happy memories that ya have, an’ never let ‘en go.” Mark stared at him, almost as ina whole new light. Jack was starting to get a bit uncomfortable and hot under the collar. Did he say something wrong? He does tend to do that.

Slowly, though, Mark’s hand relaxed the fist and turned so his palm was touching Jack’s, and interlocked their fingers, making a chevron pattern of tan skin and pale. Jack looked up at Mark, and they both simultaneously smiled at each other.

“You’re right. God, Jack, you always know the right things to say huh?” Mark said, laughing softly. Jack blushed, shrugging.

“I try my best. It’s not th’ best advice.”

“It may not be, but it’s from someone I care about and it’s advice I needed. Thank you.” Jack was surely as red as Arin’s face when he plays Mario Maker. He coughed, but nodded.

“Ok. Yer welcome.”

They didn’t unlock their fingers until they had to get their luggage from the rotating line.

“Let’s go to a luau,” Mark said as they unpacked their stuff in their hotel room. It was a pretty good hotel room, much different from the greasy motels Jack has had to stay in before. It had a minimalistic look to it, black and white with a splash of tropical green, red, and blue. There was a bar and a bathroom with a jacuzzi in it, which would be good for relaxing muscles and such. The bad part was, though, was there was only one king sized bed, and he knew it was on purpose. Arin probably found out his crush on Mark (he’s told him before that after working with someone for so long you start to be able to read them like a dehydrated man gulping down water) so Jack wasn’t really surprised.

He was still going to kick his ass though.

“A luau? Isn’t that a Hawaiian party?” Jack asked from the bed, where he was currently trying to conquer a game on his iPad. Mark nodded, putting clothes in the closet.

“Yeah! You get leis and listen to ukuleles and Hawaiian music and dance!” Mark brandished a pair of sweatpants, and Jack snorted.

“Alright then. I mean, it's not like we're here fer a job or anythin’,” he said sarcastically, shutting his iPad. Mark pouted, looking at the younger man.

“Come on, Jackarooney! It'll be fun. We can party for one night. When I was in the Agency years ago I partied too.”

Jack bit his lip. Mark was giving him the puppy dog eyes, and he really did not like them. Not because they were stupid; God, Mark looked like a golden retriever with those baby browns, but because he knew that Jack was at the will of them. Jack groaned, and Mark’s eyes got bigger.

“Ugh,” he mumbled, slamming his face into the sheets. “Ya win. Well go to th’ luau. Jus’ don't give me th’ eyes again.”

Mark whooped, scooping Jack up and swinging him around. The Irishman yelped, but let him, holding onto Mark’s neck so that he wouldn't fall to his death on the floor.

“Awesome! You're going to haves much fun Jack, I promise!” He said, squeezing the life out of him. Jack coughed, and made Mark put him down.

“Ok, ok, ok. ‘M sure I will. Jus’, get that energy out now an’ save it fer th’ battlefield,” he mumbled, cracking his neck. Mark chuckled at that.

Suddenly, he kissed the top of his head.

It was just a small peck, but it was there, and it happened. Jack could feel the half-Korean’s lips burning a hole in his scalp. He tried not to turn red, but he was almost certain that his ears were fire trucks at this point.

Mark coughed, and Jack could see that he was blushing as well. He smiled awkwardly at Jack, and tugged at the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uh, sorry. Got carried away. I won't do it again if it makes you uncomfortable.” Jack tried to tell him that he was totally fine with that, and he can kiss him in some other areas if he wished, but his throat closed up and all he got out was a groan.

Mark stared at him as an awkward silence commenced. Jack coughed, trying to get his throat to grow some balls and let him speak. This is why he had so much bad luck around cute people; he was an awkward piece of shit, and his body even knew it too.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Jack stated, his mind crying in relief. “I really don’ mind. Believe me.”

Mark blinked, and leaned closer to him. “So...you wouldn’t mind if I just laid one on you, right now.”

Jack’s brain froze, and if his brain was a computer, it probably overloaded as well. All he could picture was Mark kissing him, and it was too much. He let out a little squeak, but shook his head, agreeing; he really didn’t trust himself to speak at the moment.

Mark’s eyes were in his line of vision, and Jack couldn’t help but admire them. They were a deep dark brown, and he couldn’t help but think of the trees of Ireland in winter. They were the same brown, and even with the leaves all off of the branches, they still stood tall and proud, watching over eight year old Jack as he climbed them. They were sturdy, welcoming, and looming all at once.

He compared those trees to Mark’s irises, and found them to have the same feeling.

Mark leaned so close that their lips were inches from each other, and Jack was filled with the smell of lawn clippings and coffee. Just a little bit closer…

There was a knock at the door. Mark jumped, and stared at Jack with this look that clearly said ‘we’ll finish this later’. Jack could feel his heart pounding in his throat as Mark just settled for kissing him on the nose, with the soft touch that reminded him of a warm towel. He went to answer the door, leaving Jack stiff in place, trying not to melt into a pile of goo.

 

 


	8. Climax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He honestly couldn’t think of a time where he was as happy as this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting so long! I should have my computer fixed by tomorrow or in the next couple of days, so regularly scheduled updates are soon to come!
> 
> I'm also working on a new story, so be on the lookout for it soon.
> 
> Tumblr: pellucidpilgrim.tumblr.com

Mark grabbed his gun (just in case) and walked to the door, peering into the peephole to see if he could recognize the person knocking. Jack didn’t hear any shots, so he assumed that the person was either a maid or room service. 

 

What he was not expecting was Barry to walk into the room, smiling widely. 

 

He looked exactly as Jack remembered, just a bit more tan. His beard was still a mixture between a full on and scruff, and his hair was still short and feather like, revealing his dazzling light eyes and bright smile that he always wore. Barry’s outfit was still his signature flannel, just now it was open with a white shirt underneath and wore shorts instead of ripped jeans. Jack laughed happily and hugged Barry tight, remembering how much he hugged him when he was starting out.

 

Him and Barry started at the Agency at the same time; they were training partners, and really close friends. They did everything together, because they immediately trusted each other when they met for the first time. Suddenly though, Jack got put on the Pewdiecry case after Barry got put on Polaris’ one, and they’ve only crossed paths a couple of times.

 

“Barry! Holy shit, it’s good to see ya man,” Jack said in glee, squeezing him. Barry laughed, a dorky little giggle, and clapped his back, pulling away. 

 

“Yeah. I technically wasn’t supposed to come see you guys, but Danny wanted me to check and made sure you got here and that you weren’t already dead,” the older man said with a smile, rubbing the back of his short hair. Mark snorted, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Of course he did. Danny’s mother hen, so why am I surprised?” Jack let out a laugh, nodding. 

 

“Yeah, well, tell him we’re safe an’ sound. This fuckin’ lunatic wants to go to a luau before we actually get started, so we’ll probably be at one of those tonight,” the Irishman exclaimed, running his hand through his hair. Barry laughed, shaking his head, like Mark acting like a three year old was a normal occurrence.

 

“Awesome. Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ll be in the hotel somewhere, if you need to contact Arin or the rest of the Grumps, feel free to come find me.” With another exchange of hugs and soft smiles, Barry left. Jack smiled after him, but something uneasy was looming at the bottom of his stomach, like a parasite was eating at him from the insides.

 

It felt a lot like a gut feeling of foreboding.

  
  


The luau was in full bloom by the time the two agents got there. Tiki torches were placed in a circle formation around the whole party, and bouncy, energetic music resounded from the band on the wooden stage nearest to the hotel. Mark looked like an excited puppy, oohing and ahhing at all the sights and people. Jack just smiled, rolling his eyes. Parties weren’t really his thing, per say, and he felt out of place in a bunch of smiling, laughing natives. Mark was happy though, and it made going out and being the wallflower worth it to see that smile constantly on his face. 

 

“Look at the ocean! It’s so pretty...and terrifying,” Mark said, pointing at the crystalline waves of the Pacific Ocean. Jack let out a bark of laughter, glancing at his friend. 

 

“What’dya mean? Ya afraid of th’ ocean?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

“I’m fucking terrified of it. Drowning, sea creatures, the deep darkness inside of it. Nothing about the ocean is appealing to me.”

 

“That’s me with heights an’ flyin’. I absolutely hate everythin’ ‘bout it,” Jack exclaimed, turning back to face forward so that he didn’t run into anyone. He really didn’t want to cause a scene on an island that he didn’t know the language to quite fluently. 

 

“Glad even the toughest of agents have a fear of something,” Mark teased, bumping his hip against Jack’s own. Jack flushed, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Everyone has a fear, whether they show it or not. It’s human nature to be afraid of somethin’,” he pointed out, placing his hands in his pockets, a sign of nervousness, Mark thought to himself.

 

“I guess you also have a fear of social events?” Mark guessed, and by the way Jack stiffened, he was on the money. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have suggested it if I knew you had social anxiety.”

 

Jack shook his head, grumbling. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Mark. I’ve had it since my parents died when I was eighteen. Just somethin’ that comes with it.” Mark stopped in his tracks.

 

“Your parents died?” Mark stared at him, all the pieces slowly coming together for him.

 

“Yeah. They uh, were pushed off a building during a case. My dad worked for the FBI after we immigrated here from Ireland, an’ my mom was a local police officer. The case was in the town we were in, an’ I was in school at th’ time, so they had to call me an’ tell me my parent’s bodies were just mangled pieces of flesh.

 

“I saw them, too. They were terrible, an’ I saw where they fell. A five-story apartment building.” He let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, I got really fucked up from that experience.”

 

The fear of heights, wanting to be alone, and social anxiety plus the fear of trusting people swirled in the forefront of Mark’s mind. At least everything made sense now; a lot of Jack’s PTSD came from seeing his parent’s bodies and going through grief. Of course, being a secret agent didn’t help either. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Mark said, laughing weakly. “I know that saying sorry doesn’t do shit; my father - my adopted father - died of cancer while I was in the Agency. I know that saying that is terrible.” Jack shrugged, smiling grimly.

 

“The past is in th’ past, Mark. I’m grieving still, but it’s become bearable.” Mark smiled at that, and on sudden impulse, took Jack’s hand out of his jacket pocket, intertwining their fingers and squeezing the pale appendage. 

 

“Yeah. I get it.” Jack gazed over at Mark, and the moon illuminated his blue hair, making it like the ocean, but in a more mysteriously calming way. His eyes were fixed onto Jack’s, and the warm brown there enveloped him in this mutual feeling they both had: care, trust, and understanding.

 

“Let’s party,” Jack said with a smirk, and pulling Mark behind him, dug his toes into the sand and ran to the luau.

  
  


Jack had to admit, Mark didn’t need alcohol to act like he was drunk. The atmosphere and the music seemed to act like the addictive drink itself. Jack laughed as he watched Mark dance with the natives, sitting and drinking a Hawaiian beverage, that was honestly better than the state drinks back at home. 

 

Mark whooped as the sweet dance-like of Michael Jackson filled the air. Jack smiled, watching him twirl around like a pigeon-toed ballerina. Suddenly though, Mark strode over to him and held out his hand. 

 

“Well, my dear Jack, would you give me the honor of this dance?” He said in an exaggerated posh voice. The Irishman giggled, shrugging as he decided that maybe he needed to let a little bit loose as well.

 

“Of course ya may,” Jack exclaimed back in an equally posh accent, letting Mark pull him to the dance floor. Mark laughed as he twirled Jack around, then pulled him close, swaying them back and forth to the beat of the song, Jack held one of his hands and placed one on Mark’s toned left shoulder, humming along to the smooth tunes of the Michael Jackson cover. 

 

He honestly couldn’t think of a time where he was as happy as this. Mark was singing the song softly, to him, as they swayed, and twirled Jack around, making him dizzy with joy. Just as the song ended, Mark sprawled his hand on the middle of Jack’s back and dipped him, bringing their faces close together to the point where the tip of their noses brushed against one another tenderly. Jack could hear his heart thump in his chest as he locked eyes with the goofy, fun loving, passionate, caring man that held him. 

 

Somehow, he knew Mark would never drop him, even if holding Jack would blister his hands and ruin them forever. 

 

“So,” Mark whispered, smiling a small crooked grin, “I remember we got interrupted in the hotel room. Do you?”

 

The Irishman chuckled, but nodded, wrapping his arms around Mark’s neck loosely, like a noose not yet tied. “Yeah. I also remember somethin’ about it being continued later…?”

 

Mark hummed, leaning close and closer to Jack’s lips. “Yeah. May I?”

 

“Don’t even hafta ask.” 

 

There a pause of silence and Jack felt softness on his lips, tender and gentle like a silk robe. They enveloped him, moving slightly to the beat of their hearts. Jack slowly relaxed and melted into the kiss, placing his hand in Mark’s ocean blue hair. Mark’s arms went around his waist, encasing him in the smell of rich aftershave and cinnamon. Jack smiled into the kiss, feeling something shift in his heart, something that hasn’t been with him since he got that fated phone call one night many years ago.

 

Belonging.

 

It was all giggles, soft touches, and the feeling of lips on lips as they walked back to their hotel room, their hands not leaving their spot in the others, like some magnetic force glued them together. It didn’t feel forced though; it felt like, Jack grudgingly admitted to himself, incredibly cliche that it felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together. When they got to their hotel room, Mark pecked his lips once more as he went to unlock the door.

 

Mark froze, and the giddy feeling that the two once had suddenly plummeted, like a glass falling to the ground.

 

Their door was unlocked. 

 

“Stay behind me, ok?” Mark breathed to his partner, moving so that Jack was behind him. Grudgingly, he did so, but still pulled his gun out from his holster that was connected to his belt. Slowly, Mark kicked the door open, and pointed his gun, Jack doing the same. 

 

The room was dark, and there seemed to be no one inside. They still had to cautious though; their intruder may be lurking in the shadows, waiting for them to drop their guard. They walked in, Mark going to where the bed was and Jack headed towards the bathroom. 

 

“‘M clear,” Jack said, checking the bathroom and the kitchen. Mark’s silence made Jack wary, so he slowly made his way to the bed.

 

“Mark?” He called, his heart pounding his throat, this time for an entirely different reason. He heard a pause of silence, then a hesitant voice call.

 

“You may need to come see this Jack.”

 

Jack raised his eyebrows and walked to where the bedroom was. As soon as he got there, he could feel all the blood leave his face as he looked into the scene that laid before him.

 

Blood. Blood covered the walls, bloody handprints looking like they were trying to fight something (or someone) off. The bloody prints led straight to their bed, where a figure was nailed to the wall like some mocking crucifixion. Slash marks tore through their abdomen, blood and organs barely leaking out of the slashes. That wasn’t the worse part, though. In big, bloody, bold letters on the wall behind him, were two words. 

 

“FOUND YOU.”

 

Mark let out a shaky breath, then turned on the light.

 

It was even more gruesome than it was in the moonlight. Everything was so much brighter,  much more vivid, that it make Jack’s stomach queasy.

 

Then he gazed at the person. He fell to his knees, covering his mouth to try and stop the vomit from exiting it.

 

The person was Barry.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not want to write that. Like, my stomach hurts. I also want to cry.
> 
> All for the story, I suppose.


	9. Addicted to A Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All of their training tasks, all of their best and worst moments melted together like a disappointing watercolor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone! I finally got my computer fixed, so i will be back to regular updates once again. Much To Do About Loving will also be continuing, which is the story I'm writing with collaborational. I hope you enjoy! The real fun begins next chapter. :)

Oddly enough, Jack thought of the first time Barry made him laugh.

 

It was break time for all new recruits, and Jack was eating a sandwich absentmindedly with only the trees that looked like kettle corn but reeked of fish to keep him company. He had been observing the other members, watching them train; watching them learn. It was quite interesting to him, seeing how they move their bodies and their choices, because choices are _ weird.  _ Choices have this spectrum of right and wrong decisions inside the bigger decision that they had made, then those decisions had a spectrum of right and wrong decisions as well. 

 

Jack liked to think deeply about things as trivial as that. It was a pretty decent pastime. 

 

“Hey there!”

 

Jack had turned to see a man a few years his elder stand before him,a bright smile on his face and a burger sitting in a greasy wrapper tucked into one hand. Jack was very taken aback by the optimism of this person, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Most of the trainees were assholes, anyway, so it was pleasant to see at least one content face besides his own. 

 

“Hullo,” Jack had greeted politely, a small, reserved, polite smile on his face, one that said  _ I don’t know who you are and frankly I don’t care but since you’re being nice so will I. _

 

“It’s super nice outside, huh?” The man said, motioning to the cloudless sky. Jack nodded, staring off into space, thinking quietly to himself.  Barry sighed as he sat down next to him, placing his chin on his knees and stared off into space. The sound of rustling leaves and skin hitting punching bags were the only tunes to fill the air. After a bit though, Barry spoke.

 

“You’re very good at what you do,” he said with a smile, turning to Jack. Jack glanced at him, raising his eyebrows. No one complimented each other in training; it was be the best or beat the rest. Yet here he was, congratulating him on something that most trainees would have killed him for having.

 

“Uh, thanks,” Jack said, obviously taken aback. “That’s nice of ya to say. I would say yer very good at what ya do, but I don’ really know what ya do.” Barry laughed, nodding.

 

“Yeah. I’m a hacker, nothing special. I got asked by Dan to at least come try it out, I suppose. A lot better option than jail.”

 

Jack blinked at him, a plain attempt to explain what he meant. 

 

“Oh, I was caught trying to hack NASA. I just wanted to see if aliens existed, but no, it’s apparently ‘too much for a human’,” Barry explained, moving two fingers to quote the obvious government official. The Irishman laughed, nodding.

 

“Well, I don’ know ‘bout ya, but I’m pretty sure Danny’s an alien. I mean, have ya seen his CD collection? That’s out of this world, dude,” Jack said, attempting to joke around. Barry was starting to grow on him. Especially since he hacked NASA. That’s pretty fucking cool.

 

Barry bursted into laughter, cute little giggles that reminded Jack of a teddy bear from an old kids show he watched when he was young. “Yeah, I get what ya mean.”

 

They stuck together after that, two peas in a kickass pod. The muscle and the hacker. At least, until they both got sent to separate jobs.

 

Now that he was sitting there, watching Barry’s body hang from the ceiling like some sick sacrifice, all he could do was think of that memory. All of their training tasks, all of their best and worst moments melted together like a disappointing watercolor. Jack could faintly feel Mark’s hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him.

 

“Jack. Jack? Honey, you have to try to find my voice. You’re in shock. Nod if you can hear me.”

 

Jack could feel his muscles moving as his head nodded, his eyes staring upward. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away.

 

“Ok, good, good. Alright, I’m going to carry you to the couch. Then I’m going to call the police and Arin so that he knows. I just need you to try to take deep even breaths, okay? You’re doing so good, I’m proud.”

 

There was a pause while Mark gathered up his strength and picked Jack up bridal style, like he was a newborn baby. Jack let his head fall limply against Mark’s shoulder, trying to take in the smell of cinnamon and after shave again. He could also hear Mark’s heartbeat, keeping a steady metronome as the older man walked Jack to the couch, and sat down, still holding Jack. 

 

It felt like Jack’s body shut down. He couldn’t seem to move on his own, talk on his own, let alone think. He should be feeling a range of emotions: anger, sadness, vengeful, distress. All he could feel though, was the pride in making Barry laugh that one summer day years ago. 

 

“Hey Arin, it’s Mark. Sorry to have to call you, but it’s a fucking big emergency.” Jack heard a grumble on the phone, too undistinguished for him to make out clearly. “Well, the big emergency is...Barry’s dead. Someone killed him, and it’s not a pretty sight.” There was a pause. 

 

“Yeah, Jack’s here. His body’s gone into shock, so I’m close and trying to calm him down. Barry’s hung up over our bed, like some sick crucifixion, and his organs are hanging out of his stomach. I’m so sorry, man, I know you and Danny were close to him, especially Danny. Yeah, I’ll clean it up. I know someone in the HPD, so I’ll tell them what really happened, then it’ll get sorted.”

 

Jack clenched the fabric of Mark’s shirt, trying to breathe. It was coming in short, sharp breaths, but he was breathing, and that was always a good sign.

 

“Yeah, I will. Jack will be okay, I promise. He’s in safe hands now. He won’t go through this alone,” Mark added quietly, and starting running a hand through Jack’s green hair, hearing the short intakes of air. “Okay, I’ll be safe. Take care of Danny too. He won’t take this well. Yeah, love you too man. Bye.” Mark hung up the phone and turned his attention to Jack, who was still trying to get some sort of air into his lungs. Mark took his hands, rubbing the calloused palms there.

 

“Hey Jack, it’s Mark. You’re doing really well, okay? It’s just shock and a panic attack. I’m going to help you take breaths in, alright? Can you breathe in for five seconds, hold it for two, then exhale for five seconds again? Squeeze my hands if you can do that for me, sweetheart.”

 

Jack knew his hands were probably shaking like a leaf, but curled up on this nice couch, his mind shutting him off from the outside world with all the times Barry hugged him with so much genuine love, he gathered up all of his strength and squeezed Mark’s hands, just barely. 

Jack could hear the smile in Mark’s voice. “Good. Ready? Breathe in.”

 

Jack clenched his eyes shut and started taking a slow, steady breath in.  _ One...two...three...four...five.  _

 

“Yes, very good Jack! Now hold it for two seconds...okay, now breathe out, five seconds again.”

 

This went on for about three minutes until the fog cleared from Jack’s brain and eyes, his body finally becoming his again. The Irishman suddenly felt exhausted, like he just ran five miles with concrete blocks for feet.

 

“You feel at least a little bit better?” Mark asked quietly, still holding Jack’s hands. Jack took a deep breath, nodding. 

 

“Yeah,” he croaked, his voice cracking from his throat closing on itself. Mark nodded, and wrapped his arms around him, encasing him in warmth and comfort.

 

“Are you sure? That was a lot to take in. I know you were close to him.”

 

Jack let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes, now feeling the actual emotional pain. Grief, sorrow, then a hot flash of anger fueled him. Barry did nothing wrong.

 

Nothing except being cared for by Jack. He felt tears at the back of his eyes, and he tried to calm down.

 

“I’m goin’ to kill those  _ sons _ of  _ bitches _ ,” he gritted his teeth, his shoulders and back tensing, and a new fire in his eyes. Mark looked down at him, concerned but eyes also blazing in a silent agreement. 

 

“I don’ even care anymore. This, this was too far. I’m sick of them ruinin’ my life, an’ hurtin’ my friends. This shit ends now, or I’m goin’ to die fuckin’ trying.”

 

Mark stared at him for a moment, then kissed him hard on the mouth, holding it before pulling away before Jack could tell what flavor of drink he had. He raised his eyebrows, obviously confused at why Mark laid one on him. Mark flushed, and Jack can’t help but think about how cute he looked like that. 

 

“Sorry. You just look really hot when you’re angry and talking about sacrificing yourself. Is that weird? Probably. But, I’m with you.” His embarrassed smile turned into a smirk, standing up and taking his gun from his holster, cocking it.

  
“Let’s kill some sons of bitches.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> go to my tumblr for updates and to ask questions on anything about this universe and others: pellucidpilgrim.tumblr.com


End file.
